You have a virgin forest in your head, it seems easy, it seems candid, but no.

Intricate, colorful, warm, but above all humid. That humid monsoon, fragrant, soaked and green.

Cursed deciduous trees that stumble the way, and soft brambles darkly intertwined.

I want to look inside. Go in there. Make room for me, get my hut to enjoy in peace. Jerk off as I please, under a rain that comes like a dense nebula.

Bathe me with the thoughts that you enclose in that casket. Precious and fearful. 
Get me dirty with peat. 

Give me what you are while I dig. Give yourself as a gift to anyone. Shower me with your embarrassed and excited obscenities.

Don't spare me the evil, give me that too. I am the blank canvas, for once and a thousand more if I like it.

Be a serving cavalier for thoughts, works and provocations. No flowers, there is no space in the jungle. Not below. Not here at the bottom. Not in here.

I am the epiphet, which lets its filthy resin run down the trunk, which it leads straight into the heart of your belly.


It happens like this, that sometimes I think of you randomly and I come back to mind, while I try to live and waste time, your memory is a bit confused but it is there and it happens that I review everything we have been through together, which is little, but you do not know how much a person like me is able to feed on crumbs and believe that it will be forever it happens that I lose heart if I think of you and I have lost you but what can I do, what could I do then, I wonder what I could give you more than what it was and the answer is that I’m sorry because I showed you who I was with my sweetest side, perhaps the one that so few have seen, that I hadn’t seen myself until you. it happens that sometimes, so late at night, it occurs to me how you held me that night in your arms and how my head sank into your neck and how little I cared if my hair was swollen and my legs not long and skinny but you liked them anyway and you always put your hands in my hair repeating how beautiful they were and I remember the feeling of your mouth on mine and even the sound of that kiss that we exchanged so many times, it echoes in mine it lies like a snap and makes more and more noise, more and more until it happens it happens that thinking of you starts to hurt me, and I feel a little dying and a little sad because we no longer exist, you and I it happens that I have to delete the images and slow down the heartbeat that could burst it happens that so randomly I think of you and I would like to know if you are okay, send you a message but I have deleted your number and then I can only think of you without looking for you without looking for those who do not want to be found, and it happens that sometimes life is just a big mess.


And you watch yourself walk the path of your life, that path already traced, already decided, that path that you have not plowed, that path that does not reflect you in the least, that path decided by others for you. And you watch yourself walk along it, without doing anything.Without rebels, so with his head down, accepting his path. And you stay like that, empty, walking almost by inertia in a life you don’t like, in a life that doesn’t belong to you, in a life that walks without you. And why are you there? Because you don’t want to hurt the people you love. They need you and you can’t leave. You can’t choose a different path and leave them in pain. You are always underwater. Stay among the algae. You never re-emerge. Feel the cold of your destiny. You can’t get rid of who you are. You will never be able to live your happiness without making others suffer. Therefore you are imprisoned in the waters of destiny.

%d bloggers like this: